Peter Parker, The Amazing SpiderMan
by MagSul
Summary: Prepare for a unique interpretation of a whole cast of characters as Peter Parker continues with his struggle to balance both the responsibilities of his ordinary life and those of his infamous, webslinging alter ego.
1. Chapter 1

Spider-Man

It always feels strange to me that from up here, there is rarely anything that suggests something could happen down below on the streets of Manhattan. Of course, in an ideal world nothing _would _happen. Unfortunately, the world we live in always appears to be less than ideal, particularly where my life is concerned. Irony would be the best choice of word right now, considering how often I hear about people wishing that they could be me, doing the things that I can accomplish. But the truth is, being Spider-Man is not an occupation I would have chosen for myself, and yet despite that, it's a responsibility that I'd never pass on to anybody else. Then why am I doing it now you're wondering, right? The answer to that is simple: it's because I have to.

I mean, think about it. Or rather, let me try and explain. If you had the power to change things around you, make a dramatic impact on the lives of those around you, what would you do? If you saw a stranger being beaten up, or a jewelry theft in progress and knew that you could stop it, you would, wouldn't you? Of course, but why would you be doing that? Hopefully, you know the answer to that. It's because deep down, you're a _good _person, the same goes for me.

It's freezing. At times like this even I'll question the practicality of this damn suit. Maybe I should do a re-design, any ideas there? Wind resistant or not, this thing gets cold! I guess Old Man Winter has decided to check in early this year. Why're decent thermals so expensive? Well, there is and always will be one easy way to work up a sweat. After all, I'm Spider-Man!

My pulse began racing, I could practically hear my heart hammering against my chest as I ran. The edge of the rooftop drew closer, closer still and then, I leapt. It's not something that I could describe to you, the exhilaration and the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I shot by an office suite fifty stories from the streets of New York. Arms extended, I clenched my central fingers into my palms, gripping like a vice the thin line of adhesive that had emitted from my wrists and latched on to the nearest high-rise.

"Pete..? Pete! Wake up, man!" Could he be any more irritating than this? "Pete!" Apparently, he could. With as much reluctance as a child to eat his sprouts, I peered over my arms, shifting my eyes to meet Harry's with a glare only Hades could match.

"What?" I spat into his face. Remarkably, he seemed unfazed by my sudden outburst, almost amused in fact. That was disconcerting.

"Pete, man, um… you're - we're - still in the classroom." He gestured to the other thirty occupants of the room, all of whom seemed to be staring right at me with mingled looks of confusion and amusement. Miss Gibbs, our science tutor was giving me the obligatory condescending look of disapproval, Flash Thompson was smirking; everyone else seemed to be giving their uttermost impression of the people's eyebrow.

It would be so much easier if I could explain things to them. Unlike Flash in the corner over there, the bags encircling my eyes weren't the result of a late night up with the boozed and brainless.

"Glad you could join us, Peter." Could I have done without the little extra attention? Yes I could. That is why I wear a mask, after all.

"I'm sorry, Miss Gibbs." Huh, odd. What's odd? Well, Miss Gibbs' temper is usually as short as _she _is in comparison to the Incredible Hulk.

"_Who_ has been drawing _crude_ marks on Peter's _face_?" Ah, there it is. Wait, what? Sparing a swift glance at Harry, I caught a glimpse of his eyes flash to the opposite corner of the room; a nervous expression settled upon his features. I'm surprised Miss Gibbs bothered to ask, it didn't take Sherlock and Watson's deductive reasoning after all. At least, I didn't think so. Flash's taunting grin was embedding itself beneath the skin. The temptation, it was there. But did I really dare and try anything? He deserves it, so what's stopping me?

A frustrated sigh escaped through my nostrils just as the bell echoed throughout the halls. He wasn't worth it.

"Hey, dick brain, wash your face once in a while!" Every guy has his breaking point, am I sure he's not worth it? "MJ, you all ready?"

A discreet peek and I could see her, too. If there is at least one thing worse than a jackass such as Flash, it's the people who choose to hang out with him. After all, who's more foolish, the fool, or the fool that follows him?

"Pete! Listen, sorry about tha-" Perfect, Harry. P.S. Thanks for not waking me up sooner, by the way. He followed me into the bathroom, and seemed to be sweating a lot, even by his standards. "When she left the class, they just walked ove-"

"You didn't think to wake me up _then_?" It wasn't really his fault, I knew that. After all, what's he and his skinny frame compared to five buff athletes?

"Sorry Pete." Another irritated sigh broke out before I could help it. Glancing back up to the mirror, I scrutinized my reflection, and then shifted my gaze to glance at Harry still peering over my shoulder.

"It was a permanent marker." He said. Perfect. "Pete?"

"Forget it, Harry. It doesn't matter."

"It's not that, it's about Gwen..." That was unexpected. When I turned to face him, he was still sweating profusely, what was this about?

"...Harry?" I enquired, an inquisitive eyebrow arching its way up.

"Well, you and Gwen are no longer a... a _thing_, right?" Oh, that's what this is about, then maybe not so unexpected. Gwen Stacey and I came to an end a few weeks ago. Not long after a Spider decided to take a bite out of me as a matter of fact. Were the two connected? Marginally.

"We're not together, Harry. You know that, do what you like." That seemed to relieve some of the pressure from the dam, he had looked like he'd been about to burst. It was unlikely that Gwen and I would be seeing each other again anytime soon, that was the genuine truth of things. How Gwen felt about all of this, well, Harry seems to think there's a chance for him at least.

"Hey, what was the name of that Chinese place you used to go to?" Twist the knife why don't you, Harry.

"Do you _really _think it's a good idea to go somewhere that I went with her on a regular basis?" That had him stumped; I guess I wound up ruining his plan after all.

"Ugh, geez, you're right. Where should I take her?" Why was he asking me? He knows her just as well as I do. "Whoa!"

Whoa was just what I was thinking. Flash Thompson had stumbled in, lip-locked with Mary-Jane Watson.

"Beat it!" He bellowed in our ears. Gladly, I wasn't sticking around for that.

When we left, Gwen was waiting for us by the gates. Her blonde hair had been cut short. Shame, I had liked it better the other way, back when it draped over her shoulders. She looked dressed to go out, and was fiddling _excessively _with her purse. Was she nervous? She glanced between Harry and me. Yep, definitely nervous. How long had the two of them been planning this?

"Pete says it's okay!"

The sense of relief that settled over Gwen was unmistakable. How were they _expecting _me to react? And just how serious were they now, anyway? It's not like they'd been going out long before now, or had they? I had to ask; Harry rushed forward and wrapped his arm around her waist as she reached up to kiss him.

"How long've you two-"

"It's been almost two months, Peter." Wait, two months? Gwen and I only broke up barely a month ago. Maybe the time I had been committing to web-slinging wasn't the only reason after all. No, it was just the excuse she gave at the time, not spending enough with her, not that she knows how I _was _spending my time. Still, why hadn't they told me that they had felt this way towards each other? Thanks a bunch Harry, Gwen, you've _really_ made me feel great today.

"Peter..." Gwen's face appeared unnaturally calm. Was she even sorry? If she was, she was hiding it all too well.

"You guys have a great time tonight, I'll see you on Monday." Somehow, I think I'd rather have _this _weekend alone, and I know just what to do with the time. Despite the numerous problems that stem from being Spider-Man, having an alter ego still retains some benefits: You're never, ever, stuck for a way to pass the time.

Several hours of web-slinging later, I forced a sigh through my nostrils. Why am I doing this, really? Wait, I have a better question, how did I know that _they'd_ even _be _here? It seems Harry really isn't that creative after all, Gwen and I came here all the time whilst we were still dating. And there they are, the happy couple. They certainly look the part. Wow, how bitter can I get?

Allowing another foot of webbing to escape, I was able to sink closer for a better view. This wasn't right, I told myself as the world came into focus the right way up again. I was happy when we split, wasn't I? Then why does this bother me so much? It had to be the dates, they don't add up. She'd already been planning to break up, even if I hadn't started my career as Spider-Man right then; she was still going to leave. Why didn't I see that? The excitement of being a superhero must've dulled my senses, but what's left for you when it wears off?

"Flash, let go, you're drunk!" Are you really that surprised..? Wait a moment, what? Several stories below, Mary-Jane Watson was wrestling the grip of her much taller and much stronger companion. "Flash, no! Flash!" Well, this certainly looks out of place. I scurried across the side of the building. Just as I came to the building opposite, he picked her up and they disappeared into the alleyway, suddenly, her voice was cut out.

"...Flash?" I whispered under my breath. Leaning back into the wall and pushing up from it, I cleared the gap to the other side of the street, crawling around the corner and into the alleyway. What was this ab- No!

In an instant, Spider-Man dropped on to the lid of an industrial bin. "Leave her alone!" I called out into the darkness of the alley.

"Butt out!" came the reply. Webbing enveloped Flash Thompson within seconds. With a sharp pull, his tied up form flew towards my outstretched hand. With more force than was necessary, I flung him against the wall and raised my fist. Now he seemed worth it.

"Spider-Man!" I hesitated, turning to catch Mary-Jane's despaired features illuminated by the street lamp at the end of the alley. "Please, leave him." Was she crazy? Did she have any idea what he was intending to do to her? Glancing back towards Flash Thompson, I laid him a knuckle sandwich and watched him fall, still web-bound, onto the street floor.

"Thank you." She muttered, wiping her eyes and sparing a moment to re-adjust her straps. "Can-Could you please take me home?" This was different. This certainly wasn't the Mary-Jane I knew. Her lips were quivering, her make-up was distorted, and her face was stained with tears. "P-Please?" Slowly, I climbed down. Standing up straight again, I offered her my hand.

"Thank you." She whispered again.


	2. Chapter 2

I was still struggling to fathom _why_ Mary-Jane had insisted upon _not_ calling the police the night before. She was scared of Flash, which went without saying. But, what did she expect people to be able to do about it so long as she kept it all bottled up to herself? I had decided against questioning her about it, but as I had laid spread over the mattress of the room across from her window, I continued to mull it over. Mary-Jane Watson and I had lived next door to one another for practically a decade and yet neither of us knew squat about other, not that she had ever made it easy, keeping the company that she did. Was that all about to change now, because of Flash? It was still entirely plausible that all of the assumptions that I had made about her character up until this point were right on the money, although _those_ ideas no longer sat right in the pit of my stomach. Whether or not I _was_ right, of one thing I was certain: There was bound to be more to Mary-Jane Watson than met the eye.

"Peter? Peter! Are you in there?" I vaulted from the pillow and clung to the ceiling. Saved by the deadlock- wait, no! The door was open! And how had I fallen asleep in the suit, _again_? "I'm going to be out shopping with Anna this afternoon; I won't be home until late, dinner's in the fridge!" That's great, really, just please, don't open the door! I sat tensed, prepared for the worst before offering a response.

"Alright, I'll see you later!" Listening cautiously, I crept a little closer to the door. There I lingered, until I heard the unmistakable slam of our stubborn front door. A wave of relief washed over me almost instantaneously. Well, being home alone at times like this always suited me just fine. Stretching onto my feet, I stepped over the threshold and took a brisk walk across the ceiling into the bathroom. I knew that I shouldn't have let myself be so careless; If I hadn't even thought to lock the bedroom door when I came in through the window the previous night... I shuddered, envisioning Aunt May's reaction at seeing her nephew donning the infamous crime-fighting attire. I'm not convinced that she would buy my having been at a costume party the night before, somehow. Serves me right for having a non-existent social life, I guess.

As I stood beneath the shower head, my thoughts returned to Harry and Gwen. Though Gwen and I had been separated for nearly a month, it was still difficult to wrap my head around the concept of _those_ _two_ together. I wonder how their night had turned out in the end. I sighed through my nostrils, firmly planting my forehead against the wall of the bathroom. No wonder my social life is in the gutter, I can't even keep in touch with my closest friends to tell them what I get up to whilst they go out to dinner together. I couldn't help but wonder, had I not been Spider-Man, would Gwen and I still be together now, would I have noticed the signals? What would have happened to Mary-Jane last night if I hadn't been there to stop Flash Thompson?

I swiftly put a stop to that thought train there, before it could get within another fifty clicks of the station. That was something that I did _not _want to think about. Mary-Jane Watson, the girl next door. Would it be weird if I went by to check on her? Spider-Man never makes house calls. But, that being the case, would she settle for talking to Peter Parker instead? Ugh, but Peter doesn't know what happened last night! My eyebrow was beginning to twitch in frustration, I sighed again through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Balancing a double identity was work, annoyingly difficult and sometimes infuriating work. Curiosity was nagging me, I had to know. Spider-Man it was going to be.

I rapped quietly at her bedroom window. Whilst clung to the wall I began thinking to myself, would I really want to answer if someone had been _knocking_ at _my _bedroom window? What if Mary-Jane decided to grab her aunt? I'm not sure how I'd handle explaining myself at her bedroom window. I'd be curious to see her reaction, though. That said, I'm sure that I'd find Mrs. Watson's reaction a bit less entertaining, good thing she's out with Aunt May.

She wasn't answering. I rapped on the window again, feeling like an internet stalker. I waited, and then thought it best not to go scurrying around the house taking peeks through the window, nobody in this neighbourhood needed to know that I lived close by.

_ Last night was great, Gwen really enjoyed herself! Things are looking up! _I wonder if Harry bothers to think before he sends me a message. I'd barely pondered the concept when my cell chimed again. _By the way, d'you think Gwen would dig that new Stan Lee film?_ How was I going to be able to guess _that_? I flung the phone onto the bed without sending a reply. As if to mock me, my ringtone began sounding out again from across the room as I had made to exit.

"Harry, I swear to God-"

"Is this a... Mr. Peter Parker?" Well, this had me stumped; it definitely wasn't a voice that I recognized. I didn't get the chance to ask for a name, either. Within half a second of opening my mouth to respond, a second, obnoxiously loud voice cut into our conversation.

"Is this the Parker kid? We're using your shots for tomorrow's Bugle front page. Get your ass down here to pick up your paycheck. You want more? Then bring me more photos!"

I stood, frozen and unblinking. Who on Earth was _that_? A sigh broke out over the receiver.

"My sincerest apologies Mr. Parker, Mr. Jameson can be a little… forward from time to time. Your shots have left him in a very good mood, though." That was Jameson? As in, J. Jonah Jameson, the Bugle editor, the guy with the ugly mug plastered all over the billboards downtown, Jameson?

"But as Mr. Jameson so bluntly put, we have a paycheck that we require you to come and collect whenever you're free and available to do so."

I had a paycheck, from the _Bugle, _a_ professional _newspaper? I wondered how much it was worth. Peter Parker's definitely on his way to earning the big bucks!

"Mr. Parker?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I'll come by this afternoon."

My mind was suddenly buzzing with ideas. Keeping away from the cameras had made my own shots stand out from the crowd. Would I be able to keep that up? I sighed, that was doubtful. It wouldn't take Bruce Wayne's detective skills for someone to put together how I was getting shots of Spider-Man ahead of the rest of the competition. Peter Parker just got lucky the one time, I can't milk this. Still, I wonder how much I _got_! The demand was high; those shots _must_'ve been valuable!

My excitement wavered when I made it to the hallway. A stack of torn envelopes lay stuffed hastily in the drawer opposite the stairs. Overdue notice, overdue, over- What was the matter with me? I shook my head. Aunt May needed me; I couldn't go spending every dime I made on _myself_! It was time I started paying her back, she deserved nothing less for all she's done for me.

A few hours later, I began thinking to myself. Why hadn't I taken the Spider-Man express? It was like everybody in New York had decided to take the _exact_ same bus route at the _exact_ _same_ _time!_ And what was the driver _thinking_? We were full thirty passengers ago! The _nanosecond_ that we made it to the next stop, I was getting out quicker than I'd lose an arm wrestle to Ben Grimm!

My Spider Sense, tingling! I glanced left and right, I couldn't see anything! The bus toppled suddenly, a hundred occupants collapsed over one another with screams, grunts and groans all in union. What _was_ that? I scrambled to the opposite window. My eyes widened, what was _**that**_?


	3. Chapter 3

Whoever he was, this guy was nuts! I had scrambled through the window of the bus moments before making a dash down a nearby alley. When I swung onto the wall, I couldn't help myself.

"People of New York, I present to you... The Cushion! The padded-quilt man, whose his jollies are obtained from attacking only the most innocent of bystanders!" Really, his outfit was far from inconspicuous. Then again, who was I to talk on that front? Well, at least I could boast a short-lived wrestling career for an excuse. That and I guess I could take comfort in saying that, if nothing else, I looked nothing like this walking piece of household furniture.

"Spider-Man!" Apparently, neither he, nor any of his thugs, were deaf.

"So how did you all hook up? Is there, like, some sort of internet dating service for gangly thugs- Whoa!" Blinding pain pierced through my limbs whilst my eardrums threatened to explode on the spot. What was _that_? I hastily clambered to my feet, stumbling momentarily before firmly clutching what remained of the wall I had been forced through. A black Sedan, really? Talk about clichés... and a throbbing headache. I had to pause and let my vision clear, sparing a glance towards the tattered remains of my costume in the meantime. Just perfect, this'll be a sizeable cut from my upcoming Bugle pay check.

"Stay right where you are!" Oh, great, who was this going to be? Peering over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of an opportunist member of New York's finest. I realised of course that it was probably his _job_ to bring me in some time, but surely I could not have been the top priority, after all that just took place.

"Look, with all due respect, shouldn't you be worrying about trying to catch the guy whom just made off with _who knows what_ from next door?"

"Keep your hands in the air!"

"No need to shout, sheesh." Seriously, any louder and that monkey wearing the cushion could've hired him for whenever his gizmo runs out of triple As.

I stood, waiting. As the officer crept closer, retrieving his cuffs, I gave myself over to my Spider Sense. Relying on the enhanced spatial awareness, I crouched on all fours, twisting myself around and catching the backs of his legs before he could yelp in surprise. I was gone before he hit the floor.

Thanks to that cop's blundering, I had no idea where that crook and his thugs had made off to, typical. Already in costume, I decided to take the less conventional route the rest of the way to Fifth Avenue, after retrieving my change of clothes. When I made it to the rooftop, my eardrums tingled. Someone was fuming, and that I could hear it over the ringing and rumbling of _Manhattan_? Well, it left me feeling more than a little disconcerted. Please don't let that be the Jameson guy again.

I crawled out of the air ducts, dropping into an empty bathroom cubicle. I quickly flushed before stumbling out in my regular clothes. Before I could make it to the door, a deep, yet seemingly compassionate voice called me to a halt.

"Aren't ya gonna wash your hands, son?"

I hurried to the sink, spraying my hands beneath the tap. Please don't ask-

"I've not seen you before." Damn it. Please don't have me escorted out. Why didn't I just come in through the front, like a _normal_ person?

"Um, I…" He quirked a brow before speaking.

"You're not that Parker kid we've been expecting, are you?" I prayed internally, thanking the maker for my salvation as I straightened up.

"Y-Yes, that's me. Sir." I added with a twitchy nod. The man had dark, aged skin. His wrinkles thickened as his brow furrowed for a moment.

"What're you doing up_ here_?"

I motioned to answer, but before I could the door swung open with a crash that nearly shook the shook the entire room. If not for my Spider Sense, I'd have probably soiled myself. Apparently, someone else had shared a similar close encounter, judging by the disturbing noise that followed almost instantaneously from a nearby cubicle.

"Robby, how much time do you need to take a piss? I need that- Who the hell are you?" As Spider-Man, I had come face to face with some of the worst, most terrifying criminals in the city, but none of them had ever caused my brow to sweat quite like standing before this man. Even his well-groomed moustache appeared to be eyeing me with contempt. I repressed a shiver.

"P-" I swallowed. "Peter Parker, sir."

"Great, I wanted to see you. Wait outside my office." I glanced quickly towards Robby, who barely seemed to acknowledge that I was there at the moment. "What're you waiting for? Get moving!"

When the door closed behind me, I paused to catch my breath. _That_ could have ended badly. I crossed the hallway, glancing left and right before taking a gamble on the busiest suite of offices I could find. The occasional head would turn as I passed. A sigh escaped through my nostrils as the door inscribed "J. Jonah Jameson" came into the view. Before I could close my fingers around the door knob, a womanly voice interrupted.

"Ahem, you're here to see Mr Jameson?" In that moment, my brain must have failed me completely. I stood completely dumbfounded as a young secretary elegantly rose to her feet and closed the gap between us. "Can I help you?"

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah, I, um-"

She twisted her mouth, scrutinizing my appearance with a far more subtle distaste than her employer.

"I'm- Um, I, yeah. Mr Jameson asked me to wait in his office-"

"You mean _outside_ his office. There's a couch behind you, take a seat." I gratefully slumped into the cheap leather cushions, burying my features between my palms.

"You're not being paid to sit around, kid. Get up!" I scrambled breathlessly to my feet before tailing Mr Jameson into his office. "Now sit down." I perched myself on one of the two available seats across from his desk.

"Mr Jameson, I-"

"Do you have any photos of the bank theft involving Spider-Man this afternoon?" I spared a glance as Robby entered the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"N-No, sir."

"_No_? What the hell am I paying you for? I can't sell a good story without a decent picture! How am I ever gonna _nail_ that wall-crawling freak if all you bring me are excuses?"

"Jonah, Mr Parker isn't one of our full-time photographers-"

"Can it, Robby. This twen'y year old amateur has managed to bring us better material than our entire roster of photographers!"

"Actually, I'm sixteen-"

"You've got to start working some time, kid! Now get out of here, and bring me more photos!" He gripped my shoulder like a vice, before steering me towards the exit. "Head outside, give this to Miss Brant and she'll see that you get paid." I took the slip before stumbling over the threshold. The door slammed shut in my face the moment I turned to offer thanks.

I glanced down towards the slip in my hand. Excitement started to build. How much had I been paid? Gently, I turned over the slip, and read. My heart sank. I hurried over to the secretary beside the office entrance.

"Excuse me; I think there's been some kind of mistake. I-" She pulled the payslip from my fingers, giving it a thorough scan before placing it on the desk and turning to face me.

"I can sort this out for you. Is there anything else?" she asked me innocently.

"Only… only double digits?" I prayed hard that there had been some sort of mistake regarding the amount hastily scrawled onto the piece of paper now lying inconspicuously on the desk. The expectant expression I'd been holding faltered as it was met only with a look of pure apathy.

The chill of the winter afternoon atop the Bugle was almost enough to make me reconsider web-slinging in costume, particularly with its recent wears and tears. It was early evening before I made it back to Queenstown. When I jiggled the door open, I found a second pair of shoes left by the welcome mat. I guess Mary Jane's aunt Anna was stopping by for dinner, too.

"Aunt May?"

"Peter, is that you?" Seriously, who else is going to call you _Aunt_ May? A smirk formulated across my lips as I made my way to the kitchen.

"Peter." Anna Watson uttered in a stern tone, giving me e a gentle nod thereafter. She never did really like me all that much. Though ever since Uncle Ben passed, she rarely made any kind of comment about it in front of Aunt May. I also had to ask.

"Mrs Watson, is Mary-Jane alright?"

"She's fine, Peter."

"Are you sure? I mean, maybe we ought to have her over for dinner with us, or-"

"_Peter_!"

"What? I'm just saying that maybe-"

"My niece has told me that she'll be eating out with her friends this evening." Eating with her friends, my eye.

"Oh, Peter, you could always ask her out yourself some other time." Anna Watson clearly didn't like the sound of that thought, judging by the unnecessary wince and look of disgust she gave my attire.

"She's dating Flash Thompson." Well, it was clear that Anna was still in the dark about last night. "Should I tell him the good news, May?"

"Oh, Anna, stop it." Aunt May was clearly attempting to conceal a grin. What on Earth was _this_?

"Your aunt's finally met someone." My perplexed expression clearly didn't go unnoticed. "Don't be rude, Peter."

"M-Met someone?" Did they go out on a blind date or something this afternoon? It just seemed all too recent in my mind to forget, Uncle Ben. Perhaps it had been longer than I'd permitted myself to acknowledge. Aunt May needed another someone in her life. I suppose, I was glad that she had decided to begin moving on. "Um, who?"

"Oh, he's a doctor." sputtered Anna, gleaming with admiration.

"Like a medical doctor, or...?"

"He's a physicist." interrupted Aunt May, turning her attention to the oven.

"Seriously? Wow, um, what's his name?"

"Doctor Otto Octavius." she announced proudly.


End file.
